


White Moon Rising

by flowersarefree



Category: Memoirs of a Geisha - Arthur Golden
Genre: Drama, Gen, Historical, Name Changes, Original Character(s), Post-World War II, Redemption
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-23
Updated: 2019-07-07
Packaged: 2020-05-18 12:54:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19334923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flowersarefree/pseuds/flowersarefree
Summary: It's been years since Hatsumomo left Gion. In a time when everything is being rebuilt, can she also hope for a new future?Sequel to "Bruised Peach". Updates Sundays.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story takes place after the events of the book and serves as the direct sequel to my tie-in story "Bruised Peach", which is available only on fanfiction.net . I meant to post it here on AO3 as well, but never got around to it :p I'll start doing that some time in the near future, especially if this story gets a lot of traffic.
> 
> Hatsumomo, Mameha, and many other characters are property of Arthur Golden. Some characters may be loosely based on historical figures, but are otherwise not meant to portray any specific persons living or dead.

It's so curious how one's fortune can change, and how those changes can be brought about by any little thing. Given time, a gust of wind, or a drop of water can turn a brilliant diamond into a common, dull pebble. But those same conditions, under a more fortunate star, can turn a simple rock into an elegant jewel.

Of course, I'm alluding primarily to myself. I believe we last met in the middle of WWII, when my suffering was at its peak. I'd just moved to Tokyo, the most dangerous city in all of Japan at the time, and rented a moldy room above a pharmacist's shop; a room I paid for by playing the prostitute among the few bars left intact around town. Truly a lowly existence for a woman who had once been one of the elite geisha in all of Kyoto, a position I'd fought for since girlhood.

Having been banished years earlier, I didn't think I'd ever be able to return to Gion. Banishment was permanent, after all, even after the troubles of the war shut down it down. It was announced that the geisha districts would be reopened in the winter of 1945. Just in time for New Year's, usually one of the busiest times of year for anyone. I'm sure they thought they were doing us a favor, but a nation in defeat hardly had anything to celebrate; I knew the teahouses would be a silent as ever while everyone mourned our shared disgrace. It was some months before things would start to recover.

Even through the haze of my own misery, it still pained me to see the _okiya_ of the nearby Akasaka district slowly return to life. Silk kimono were nearly unheard of by the end of the war – the following summer, however, hardly a day went by that some apprentice didn't pass me by on the street in full regalia. Were I able to feel anything beyond the sickening waves of resentment and self-pity, the sight would've made me nostalgic and a bit homesick. Despite myself, I secretly yearned for Gion, the only home I'd ever known. I would've been even happy to run into Mameha or Sayuri, if only for the chance to strangle them. Little did I know, however, that a small piece of Gion would come to me.

One day, in the spring of 1947, we got a customer in the pharmacy below my loft. I still volunteered my time there during the day in exchange for reduced rent, helping the old woman who ran the place with this or that. With her busy stocking boxes, it fell to me to take her order at the little counter in the back. Imagine my surprise when I sullenly looked up and saw Fujiko-san, my old fortuneteller! It had been many years since my disgraceful departure from Gion, so I wasn't sure if she'd recognize me; my body now slumped, my features looked gray and haggard, and my hair lay clumped around my shoulders, greasy from infrequent bathing. But something about my shocked expression must have tipped her off, for she leaned forward and peered at my face a bit before letting out a gasp of her own.

"Hatsumomo-san?! Is that you? Oh, it must be; I can see you remember me, as well." I can't tell you how it felt to be called Hatsumomo after so many years. It took me a few moments to compose myself enough to answer.

"Yes… Yes, I am Hatsumomo. Or, at least I used to be…"

"Ah. Of course," she murmured gravely. I learned that in the weeks after my falling out with Shojiro, there wasn't a single soul in all of Gion who hadn't heard of the attack and my subsequent exile. I admit to spending many a night that first month wondering how wild and exaggerated the tale had become by then.

"Well, let's not dwell on such dark matters; time has passed and many things have simply become old wounds. You may as well come over for tea," she continued after I rang up her purchase. "I'm here visiting my sister in Aoyama – she survived the bombs, but a nasty cough might be the final straw. I'm taking care of things while she recovers. Let me leave you our address so you can drop by tomorrow. We obviously have much to catch up on."

She scratched a few lines down a piece of spare paper and left afterwards, leaving me standing there as if I'd been struck. To think, after all these years, I'd meet someone from my past! And someone who could possibly answer my questions, no less. In particular, I'd had one prevailing thought these past few years – how could I get back to Gion, where I knew I belonged?

I know it must seem silly, to hold out hope for so long. I suppose it was, and had I been anyone else I would've told myself just as much. I'd behaved terribly in my final years as a working geisha. There were far more enemies than friends in that city, people who would go through any length to never see me again. But I suppose I still believed that it was mine. Gion is often like an unfaithful lover, one who was just as likely to hurt you as anything else - many geisha who were sold into the profession cursed the place and dreamed of leaving forever. But, like a foolish, pining wife, I still loved it.

The next day, I hurriedly dress and rushed out the door in the direction of Aoyama. I no longer wore kimono of any kind, only Western dresses I could scrounge up from second-hand shops and families selling their belongings for money to flee town. There were chances to buy a cheap housewife's kimono – for those were still much more common than skirts or a one-piece – but I wouldn't have had any idea how to put one on by myself. As for peasant's clothes…what was left of my pride would've never allowed it. I'd suffered countless indignities up until that point, but I refused to ever be considered a peasant.

The address led me to a small, two-story house squeezed between two storefronts. The tiled roof was covered in soot from where it looked like the building next to it recently caught fire, but otherwise looked like it escaped the ravages of war. Fujiko-san herself answered the door and led me to a wide room on the ground floor, where a table sat low on the tatami surrounded by books, papers, and the other paraphernalia of her trade.

"Please excuse the mess, Reiko-san," she waved, calling me by my assumed name I adopted after my exile. "I had no idea how long Michiko-chan would take to recover, so I was forced to open up shop right below her; the extra funds are welcome to pay her medical bills you know."

I couldn't help but chuckle; people in Gion almost never spoke of finances outside of family. It was curious indeed to hear Fujiko-san, of all people, speaking to me so frankly. When she noticed, I apologized and told her as much.

"I'm old, Reiko-san. It's been many years since we last saw each other – I was old then and I've only gotten older. People my age haven't the time for subtleties and such, especially in these uncertain times." She paused just long enough to gather up a few papers and pour two mugs of weak tea. "Now then, as I said before, we have much to catch up on. Why don't you tell me; what have you been up to since I last saw you, after that unfortunate night in Pontocho?"

I told her everything that I could remember – how I moved to Shizuoka; the old couple who lived there; their subsequent suicide at the news about their lost son; and how I came to live in Tokyo. But when I tried to dance around how I was supporting myself, she saw right through me.

"There's nothing to hide, Reiko-san," she waved simply, a gesture full of resignation more than anything else. "You aren't the first of my clients to have this fate befall them. If anything, out of all the girls who didn't have the great good fortune to find someone to shelter them, the geisha who became prostitutes were almost fortunate – the only other alternative was becoming a factory worker. I'm not sure if you know this, but life there was hardly worth living. The only difference between you and them is you started the trade before the war, but that feels like splitting hairs now."

"What about you, Fujiko-san? How did Gion fare after my untimely departure." She raised an eyebrow at the word 'untimely', but said nothing.

"More or less the same, to be honest. I must say, you left Gion quite the parting gift – the story of your little fight with Bando Shojiro was talk of the town for weeks, even more so once they found out you'd been struck from the registry and kicked out. Gion lost more and more of it's glamour as the war wore on, of course. We were hit the worst by tea and alcohol rationing; any teahouses that couldn't bribe the military police to look the other way were soon forced to close their doors." She took a slow sip and stared pensively into her mug, her face unreadable to me.

"When the geisha districts closed, I don't think I've ever had a busier day. Even geisha who had never come to me before stopped by and begged me for advice as to what they should do, where they should go, or if they would even survive. Some readings were better than others; all of them were bleak. I thought to live off my savings for a while, but the police came and told me that I had to leave my apartment for no one could live in Gion at all – which I thought was nonsense, but it was what it was. I lived out the war in a hotel run by a friend in eastern Kyoto.

"After the districts reopened, I moved back into my old apartment, for the landlord was kind enough to hold it for me, and I started business again. But it wasn't 6 months before I got news that Michiko had fallen ill, and I've been in Tokyo for a month. And that's that," she clapped with finality. "We're all caught up on the past – now let's speak of the future. What do you plan to do with yourself now, Reiko-san? So much time has passed that I doubt anyone would care if you returned to Gion."

Hearing that filled me with such hope that I found it difficult to stand still; it must have radiated out of my face, too, for I saw Fujiko-san give a small, wry smile as she looked at me.

"To be honest, Fujiko-san," I began carefully, "all I've wanted these past few years was to return to Gion. I was born there, you know – it's the only home I've ever known. If I could, I'd even return to being a geisha again."

At the sound of that, Fujiko-san's smile fell. She let out a heavy sigh as she rose from the table and retreated into a small, adjoining room. Several long minutes later, she returned with a scrap of paper – she'd left the room to divine my fortune. I caught myself holding my breath as she began to speak.

"I was afraid you'd say something like that. And I was afraid of this." She gestured to the paper. "I'm going to tell it to you, though, but you'd better heed my words carefully. What you ask for isn't impossible. BUT," she emphasized, seeing my features glow with happiness and hope, "you may forget about ever becoming what you once were. Hatsumomo is behind you, as are her years of success. You won't quite fail, but there is absolutely no point in even trying to become a star geisha again."

"Fujiko-san, _please_ ," I blurted out in impatience. "Have you ever heard of a star geisha who was in her thirties? I'm much too old to be as popular as I used to be, even if I'd never been kicked out."

"One never knows with you," she sniffed. "Moving on, if you were to return to being a geisha – at great risk to yourself, by the way – it appears that your greatest success will come as a teacher. Your fate seems to be in ushering the next generation, rather than self-glory."

I wasn't sure how to respond to that. The teachers at the little school were geisha in name only – they almost never entertained and very few had ever even had a _danna_ , preferring to spend their time mastering the arts than putting them to use. It was a job that usually fell to ugly or tragically unpopular geisha, the only way they would ever pay off their debts or command any measure of respect in Gion. I was none of those things and didn't feel good about counting myself as one of their number. If she noticed any displeasure in my countenance, Fujiko-san did not acknowledge it.

"Do you know why I'm telling you these things, Reiko-san?"

"...To be completely honest, I have no idea. Anyone else in your shoes wouldn't even talk to a disgraced geisha, let alone offer to show her the path to redemption. It was my belief that most geisha believed that I'd earned my fate."

"And so you did! I liked you, Reiko-san; even as Hatsumomo, I could see that you were a clever and talented girl. No one succeeds in Gion without undercutting an opponent on occasion, not even me. But your nature was utterly ruthless, Hatsumomo-san! Your evil deeds stacked against you until you finally fell and wiped out the thing you treasured most; your career. The reason I'm showing you this path now – to 'redemption', as you called it – is because I can only hope your years of suffering will serve to keep you in check, if nothing else. I'm warning you now and under no uncertain terms: if you try to return to Gion only to repeat your past behavior, that door will close to you forever. You will have lost any chance at karmic forgiveness, and will probably return to the live you lead now."


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: The character Hatsumomo and "Memoirs of a Geisha" are IP of Aurthur Golden and Penguin Publishing.
> 
> The bit with Sakura's letter looks weird because the HTML was being a butt about formatting.

Later that week, I lay awake in my bed, wondering over the events of the past several days.

After that astonishing visit with Fujiko-san, I came home so preoccupied that I couldn’t even bring myself to go out that night; I sealed myself in my gloomy flat until morning, turning over everything that had happened again & again.

After imparting her warning to me, a dread silence hung in the air. It went unbroken until the sounds of someone’s rasping cough echoed from a room above. Fujiko-san hurried upstairs and didn’t return for some minutes. When she did, her lips were pressed together in an expression of grim concern.

“You may as well go on home, Reiko-san,” she sighed. “It’ll only get worse from here. She hasn’t taken to the spring air at all. Besides, it’s getting late.”

“But wait! Just a moment, Fujiko-san. You claim it’s possible for me to return to Gion, but how? My name was struck from the registry. Besides, I could never afford to move as a…well, as I am now.”

“You mean you honestly don’t know?” Her eyebrows raised in shock. “I thought you said you and your younger sisters wrote each other. I should think they’d be the first to tell you of Gion’s state!”

“We used to – I lost contact after I moved to Tokyo, 3 years ago now.”

“Well, you should remedy that immediately then. They’re likely the only friends you have left in Kyoto! I remember I saw one of them around Gion just before I left, although she didn’t look like the working sort anymore.” She didn’t bother to explain, but invited me to return the next day.

The following afternoon, she spent quite a long time telling me things that changed around Gion after the war. By the time she was done, I could already feel the beginnings of a grand plan forming. But it did nothing for the more immediate concerns of funding this plan. When I told Fujiko-san as much, she flapped her hands in impatience.

“Really, Hatsumomo,” she said, using one of her frequent slips of the tongue. “You live barely a stone’s throw from Akasaka, the only decent geisha district for miles. You yourself are a seasoned geisha with decades of experience. Why you haven’t taken advantage of either of these things is beyond me!”

“I have thought about it, but I have no contacts or standing with these Tokyo geisha. Unless Akasaka is more different from Gion than I thought, I doubt they’d even take tea recommendations from a perfect stranger like me.”

“Oh, it’s not that bleak,” she chided. “The districts have only just reopened; we all need whatever help we can get, and are hardly in the position to complain about the source. I moved here much more recently than yourself, and I’ve been making middling business. Several of my regular clients are once-prominent geisha; one or two are okiya mistresses. How about I refer you to them as a dance instructor? As I recall, it was one of your greatest talents.”

I bowed low to the mats and thanked her for all her help. No one had done so much on my behalf since I left Gion, and even before that – possibly since Tomihatsu. Fujiko-san just smiled and motioned for me to rise.

“Think nothing of it. No one likes to see a star fall so low, especially one that burned as bright as you. Besides, I believe your presence could do Gion some good. It’s been slow to recover from the trauma of the war and being shut down all those years; perhaps you’d be just the one to help breathe some life back into things.”

I set to work that night, dancing in my room to songs in my head. I wondered what to do for a dancing fan when I remembered the bundle hidden away under my Western style dresser. Sliding the large mass out from underneath the last board, I opened the slightly yellowed paper to reveal the two kimono I’d stolen the night Mother kicked me out; the flaming orange robe from my first danna, and the lavender robe I’d intercepted from Mameha’s boyfriend. Lying flat on top of the pile was my white dancing fan – I couldn’t part with it and took it with me, although I hadn’t touched or even looked at it since the day I left. All three were just as pristine as the day I left them, although the silk fabric had taken on the pungent odor of herbs from downstairs.

I repeated this process day after day, increasing the difficulty of the songs and accompanying dance until I was satisfied that I remembered how to do most pieces. I was undoubtedly rusty, but so was everyone at the time.

True to her word, it was only a few days later that I received a summons from the landlord – a woman who ran a nearby okiya called to reserve my time and see if I’d be suitable to tutor one of her apprentices in Inoue style dance. I decided that I’d be a fool to not agree. I was nervous as you could imagine, walking into an okiya for the first time in years. But I managed to satisfy the mistress as to my performance skills and she agreed to hire me.

I don’t think I was really that good, certainly not as graceful or precise as I’d been before. But my student would be a mere apprentice learning the most basic dances, and I doubt there were very many teachers as versed in the Inoue school as I was in Tokyo at the time. Whatever her real thoughts were, we settled upon the schedule and payment, and she insisted on paying me three weeks in advance. I was so grateful to Fujiko-san that I went straight to her sister’s house and bought an almanac from her. She found it so appalling that I’d been living without one all these years that she tried to just give it to me, but I insisted on paying.

It was that tome that I stared at in the night, a curious feeling taking hold of me. In a strange way, that book of endless charts and fortunes made me feel more like a geisha again in a way that nothing else could.

* * *

After purchasing the almanac, I had just enough money that month to pay my rent and buy food. As more and more calls came in, I soon had enough tutoring jobs through the week that I never again needed to go out and play my trade in the bars. Even if I never set foot in Gion again, I owed Fujiko a life debt for that alone. By the start of summer, I had to quit my job at the pharmacy. Of course that doubled my rent, but I was earning enough that it didn’t bother me much.

What did matter was a letter that arrived two weeks later, postmarked from Gion. It took many weeks of sending letters back and forth to various people, but I’d finally managed to locate former apprentice, Sakura.

When I last wrote, they’d both been hiding with a tatami maker named Sugi in northern Kyoto, not far from the Baron’s estate. As I later learned, she’d moved back to Gion merely a month before, only to find that the Inoue okiya had burned down during the war. It wasn’t a raid or anything so dramatic – merely the bad luck that some fool of a policeman had been burning trash nearby one winter and didn’t put out his embers well enough.

She moved the okiya and was now living in a house some blocks away, near the Kamo River. Kohaku’s whereabouts were yet unknown. I could only hope she was with her sister or otherwise in Gion, as my plans for returning would not work as well without her.

I eagerly put aside my lacquer umbrella, for the rainy season had begun in proper, and went to tear open the letter by the light of my small electric lamp. “Dear Hatsumomo,” it began – I hadn’t yet told her of my name change.

_Dear Hatsumomo-san_  
You have no idea how happy we are to hear from you again. We feared the worst when we lost contact with you so long ago. Honestly, you should’ve told us you moved to Tokyo sooner!  
Kohaku is living with me in the okiya now. Matsuda-san died in a raid during the war. Because he was the one who arranged for our shelter from the factories, his wife was kind enough to let us pay our respects at his funeral. With her danna gone, she tried to return to her okiya but Tamame-san hasn’t returned. To be honest, there’s a rumor that she got married and isn’t a geisha any longer. As fate would have it, I have a condition that prevents me from entertaining just now, so I gladly admitted her into the Inoue okiya.  
As for your announcement, we were shocked to hear of your intention to return to Gion! It seems impossible, but everyone knows how clever you are – if there is a way to accomplish such a thing, we’re sure you’ll find it. In the meantime, we’re happy to assist you in any way we can.

Despite her quiet skepticism, Sakura’s letter brought welcome news. Not only was Kohaku still in touch, but I knew I could count on both of them in the years to come. Satisfied, I put the letter aside and was preparing to write my response when I noticed another slip of paper in the same envelope. It was a short note, written in Kohaku’s tiny scrawl.

_Hatsumomo-san:  
I knew Sakura probably wouldn’t tell you this, but she’s pregnant. When we lived in northern Kyoto, the family we stayed with ran out of money. I’m afraid that the women of the house eventually had to resort to prostitution to buy food. We tried to be cautious, but Sakura-chan became with child. She’s about three months along. We await your return to Gion. I can’t tell you how happy I am that you survived._

Pregnant! That was less happy news. I could hardly criticize their choices or fault them for the situation that drove them to it, but to keep the pregnancy was an absurd move on Sakura’s part. 

Like every geisha with a danna, she’d had abortions in the past – why this situation was any different, I had no idea. The situation was further worsened by the fact that a woman who becomes a mother can no longer be a geisha. It’s a simple fact that in the teahouses, a man will want no part of a woman who’s borne another man’s child. While I could hardly be happy about it, I could also see no reason why she couldn’t act out her part as normal. I wrote as much in my letter and continued on with the first round of my instructions.

I knew the Inoue okiya had its own collection of kimono, but I also remembered what they looked like. There was also no guarantee that their storehouses had escaped the raids; more than a few okiya mistresses return to Gion only to close their doors because the vaults in which they kept their entire collection had been bombed. I had plans to get my own collection, but that would come much later. In the meantime, I advised them both to closely watch the proceedings that were going on with Baron Matsunaga Tsuneyoshi.

In the new government that was emerging at the time, under the influence of the Americans, the old gentry was being done away with; the only exception would be the emperor himself. This meant that common farmers were no longer peasants, but neither were there dukes or barons. Naturally, many of them didn’t like having their titles taken away and spent considerable sums of money fighting the decision. These battles were quickly silenced when many of them were also brought up on war crimes for heavily financing (or even owning) the factories that made bombs and planes. One of them was the Baron, Mameha’s old danna.

If things continued to go poorly for him, I suspected that he would likely end up doing away with himself like Judge Hiyama did at the start of the Depression. The man always had been a complete child, and I highly doubted he’d changed much since. In any event, he’d certainly have to start selling some of the antiques from his impressive collection to keep up with his mounting fines.

My prediction came true a month later, when the news broke that he drowned himself at his estate. This came following the news that his money and holdings were being forcibly taken from him and auctioned off to pay his debts. I felt a smug sense of joy knowing that some of his kimono were already gone, sold off in secret by his family and servants. I also knew that a few pieces – including his crown jewel, an apprentice’s robe showing the cliffs by the city of Kobe - lay quietly hidden away in the Inoue okiya, Sakura having snatched them up for a tidy sum.

When I promised to send them some fo my own savings to make up for it, because I knew that much money wasn’t exactly easy to come by in those times, Kohaku’s next letter immediately rejected the idea.

“That thing is easily one of the loveliest kimono I’ve ever come across,” she wrote with her usual frankness. “We would’ve gladly paid as much and then some for that robe alone. For a time, there was a fierce bidding war for it. It only makes me wish I was an apprentice again! Or at least have a younger sister to parade around in it.”

It was with this train of thought that brought up my second wonderful idea. Fate wouldn’t leave me to rot in the classroom after all.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Memoirs of a Geisha" is property of Arthur Golden and Penguin Publishing.

Days after the Baron’s death, I was taking a stroll around the neighborhood to enjoy the sunlight and think. I knew what path to take, I just didn’t know how to go about it.

Fujiko-san’s warning to me was that my role in Gion, if I was to have any at all, was simply to guide the new generation of geisha. Popularity in the teahouses was a goal that would do me far more harm than good to strive for. However, even in the worst of times these things are rarely absolute – there are usually little loopholes in this type of superstition that allow those clever enough to bypass them.

For instance, say your almanac warns strongly against traveling in the direction of the Tiger, which lies north-east. But you have a very important appointment that way! Most would try to reschedule, or simply curse their bad luck and cancel it altogether – the ingenious would know to travel west, then north, and then east to reach their desired location.

Of course, it’s always better to avoid getting in such situations in the first place, but life is rarely so accommodating.

Likewise, Kohaku’s letter gave me an idea as to what the loophole in my prophecy was: an apprentice. I can think of no better way to describe the role of an older sister than as the most important teacher in a geisha’s life. The little school is nice, but I could’ve stayed there my entire life and not learned nearly so much as I did during my years with Tomihatsu. The same could be said for Mameha; even with all her natural-born gifts, she would’ve been nothing if not for Mamemitsu. If I couldn’t be a star in my own right, then I resolved to be the one who molds them.

Unfortunately, suitable little girls don’t just fall from the sky. It might seem easy to find one with times being what they were. There was already a proliferation of orphans and child prostitutes left behind from the dual wreckages of war and the now-past Depression. If it had to be done, selling your daughter to an okiya was certainly the more hopeful choice.

However, simply having desperate parents (or none at all) was no good prerequisite to becoming a decent geisha. Suitable girls had to be attractive, with clever, even-tempered personalities, or else they’d be better off as some merchant’s wife. They also needed to be just the right age: old enough to understand the complicated lessons she’ll have to undergo, but certainly well before the age she blossoms into a young woman!

Such gems were uncommon and usually picked off quickly by brokers, who made a tidy sum on the side by recommending girls to okiya they were friendly with and acting as go-between with their parents. My mission was doubly complicated by living in close proximity to another geisha district, where such brokers were common and always searching for new faces. Likely, the entire city had been combed three times over since the districts reopened.

These were the thoughts I mulled over as I rounded a corner just north of Roppongi and heard children shouting. At first I thought I was looking at the remnants of a schoolyard, but the noted lack of uniforms told me otherwise. It took me a moment to realize that I was looking at an orphanage, and a rather ramshackle one at that. Like almost every city throughout Japan at the time, Tokyo was littered with them. Most were terribly overcrowded, but it did nothing to stem the ever-rising tide of street urchins who lost their families to the bombs, or even hunger.

But widespread tragedy is often a godsend to the geisha industry; you’ll recall how swollen with apprentices the school in Gion became in the years after the Depression began. And that gave me an idea – I decided right then that, if there was a suitable orphan girl left in all of Tokyo, she was probably in one of these.

Back in my apartment, I flipped through my almanac for the best day to pay a visit to the tattered little orphanage. I began to consider what should say to the owner to get them to listen to me. That day turned out to be the first Monday in July, a swelteringly humid day. I dressed in a light blue _yukata_ and a pair of cheap _zori_. (I’d invested in a few robes to wear to my tutoring appointments, for they were much better for dancing in than any Western skirt.) Retracing my steps, it wasn’t until I was standing right before it that I realized the true extent of the place’s misfortune.

Apparently, the building had been bombed at one point – I could only hope it was before it became a home for children – and pieced back together using the burnt odds & ends of the buildings around it. Knocking on the warped wooden door, I could only imagine what the inside looked like. Still, I forced a smile as the entrance creaked open and a burly, middle-aged woman with a stern expression stood in my way.

“What do you want?” she huffed. It was hardly a polite greeting but, granted, I imagine more women were visiting to drop off unwanted children than to adopt another mouth to feed. I asked to see the woman who owned the orphanage and was wordlessly let inside.

The bare wood floors were in just as bad condition as the outside – without my shoes, I had to tread very carefully in fear of splinters and raised nails. The walls were the sad, brown color of the tobacco-stained paper windows in Mother’s room, and a strong odor of communal living and smoke seemed to seep from every possible surface. Everything in my being screamed at me to run right back out the door! And I probably would have if I hadn’t been desperate.

She led me down the narrow hallway into the owner’s room, a small closet of space that was slightly cleaner than the rest of the building. Two futons lay rolled in the corner, where I assume my guide and the owner slept.

The owner in question was a shriveled old woman in a purple cotton kimono. White hair tied into a tight bun, she was busy harshly scolding a little urchin in the corner. As soon as she realized she had guests, she shooed the girl out of the room and put on a wide smile.

“Welcome, honored guest!” she exclaimed, giving a deep bow. “My name is Kyoko, the director and owner of this humble orphanage. I hope my daughter didn’t give you too rough a welcome?”

“Oh no, not at all,” I fibbed.

We exchanged pleasantries as we took a seat on either side of the short, chipped desk. Finally she asked me what my business was with them.

“I’m here on a mission, Kyoko-san. I’ve been making a living as a dance teacher in Akasaka, but now that this awful war is over, I believe the time is ripe for me to return to my native Kyoto. Unfortunately, I’ve been told by my highly trusted fortune-teller that my return is doomed to fail unless I commit an act of charity before I go! I was just passing through the other day when I found you and thought that it was the perfect place.”

Halfway through my story, her face turned hard and she lit a wood pipe in a way that reminded me almost of Mother. It was obvious that she was disappointed that I wasn’t there to adopt.

“I’m sorry to disappoint you,” she began curtly, “but as you can see, we hardly have the money to spend on something as frivolous as dance lessons. Perhaps some other place would accommodate you.”

“Surely you don’t think I’d be so heartless as to charge you! It wouldn’t be charity if I did, would it? And please don’t think I’d be so cruel as to disrupt your business for nothing. As I’ve said, I’m doing brisk business as a dance teacher in Akasaka. My clients are all okiya mistresses, many of whom are looking for new girls to take on as apprentice geisha. They’ve lost so many in those terrible years, after all… I’d be more than happy to recommend your orphanage to them.”

“Well, then who are we to deny your generosity?” she smiled, finally hearing what she wanted. “I was reluctant because I was afraid we couldn’t pay you, understand. But now that you’ve assured us that this service is free, I wouldn’t be doing my job if I denied the opportunity to give some of these girls a new place in the world. When do you plan to begin these lessons?”

“I’m so glad you feel this way. Three days from now would be excellent for me.”

“Then three days from now it is.” She grabbed a brush from her desk and went over to a little calendar posted along the wall. Together we marked the start and end dates for our little venture.

********

By mid- July, I stood in an empty room of the orphanage, frustrated and empty-handed. I returned to that filthy place every day for two weeks, with nothing to show for it. I’d found a few girls that looked promising, but every one of them held some kind of physical or emotional defect that rendered them unsuitable to become a Kyoto geisha. One was pretty, but the skin on her arms was marred in places from surviving a bombing raid; another was talkative and sociable, but far too clumsy and forgetful.

Even so, I upheld my end of the agreement, passing them and several other girls on to the okiya mistresses I worked for, with the result being that I’d halved my class by the end of my time there. But my own search appeared to be a failure here.

By no means did that mean I was giving up – I’d prepared myself for that eventuality and was already on the hunt for another orphanage. Although, to be very honest I was in no way looking forward to repeating the past two weeks elsewhere. The experience of tutoring a room full of children in that place did nothing but steel my determination to never become a schoolteacher. I deeply respect those who hold the position, but it became quite obvious to me that I was never meant to be one of them.

Tired, I sighed and gathered up my resolve to finish out the last few days and be done with it. As I waited for what was left of my sad little group, I heard a series of sounds coming from the closet behind me. My first thought was that I was hearing a rat rustling around; it certainly wouldn’t be the first. I was inclined to ignore it and merely hope it went away, but I certainly didn’t want a repeat of my deeply unpleasant first day, when a mouse ran right out and across my foot.

Grabbing a nearby idle broom, I jerked the door open and found myself staring down at dirty little girl. Her long hair was matted but she wore the plain blue, threadbare robe all the other little girls in this orphanage wore. I suddenly recognized her as the girl who was being scolded the first day I stopped by.

“Please don’t tell auntie, ma’am!” she exclaimed, suddenly bowing to the mats after her surprise wore off. “I’m sorry for spying!”

“Wait just a moment,” I said, stopping her before she tried to scuttle away again. “What’s your name little girl? You obviously live here but I haven’t seen you in any of my classes.”

“That’s because auntie said I couldn’t,” she mumbled quietly. “She said you worked for people who ran okiya, and no one would want me as a geisha anyway.”

I insisted that she repeat what she said and look at me while she did it. Happily, I didn’t see any scars or burns. Not only that, but she had pretty single-lid eyes, two rows of even teeth, and a lovely face. Her skin was dirty from their once-a-week policy on bathing, not to mention her bad posture among what I was sure was a list of other bad habits, but she was no worse off than any other farm girl when she first comes to Gion.

This was the first time I truly laid eyes on Yui, as she went in those days. Over the years, I’d go on to learn a great deal about her time in Tokyo, which unfortunately wasn’t very pleasant. Her father had enlisted very early in the war and even attained some rank, but was killed in a terrible battle in the south of the country when the Allies began invading. From what she could remember, her mother had been a startling beauty herself, but quickly became despondent after losing her beloved husband. She abandoned her child and disappeared, likely to commit suicide somewhere quiet, as she was never heard from again.

“Well Yui, I’m sure it’s just as your auntie says, but how about you stand in the back while I conduct class anyway? I’m sure you can’t get a very good view from inside a closet.”

She smiled at this and quickly assumed her spot in the rear, for the children were beginning to stream in for their lesson. Throughout the afternoon, I watched Yui as she went through the paces for a simple dance that was taught to all the basic rank students in Gion. She was keeping up rather well with her peers, considering that she only watched from a closet for two weeks. I won’t say she was graceful, for no beginner is, but she certainly took to the lesson with enthusiasm. Besides, over time, grace and elegance could easily be taught.

Staring at her as the lesson ended and the class bowed and thanked me like they were instructed, I could imagine her growing into a very attractive young woman; anything else she needed to be a first-rank geisha would be drilled into her after years of constant practice. I’d made my decision.

At that moment, Kyoko-san returned from an errand and walked into the room to see me off. After relieving them of several hungry mouths, I seemed to be her new favorite person. But the moment her eyes fell on Yui, her friendly smile dropped and she scowled at the girl.

“You bad little girl!” she snapped at her. “Get out of here and stop bothering our guests! I apologize for any harm she may have done to you today, Reiko-san. Yui here can be quite mischievous.”

“She’s been nothing of the sort, Kyoko-san! Yui-chan here has been nothing but a model student all day. I can’t believe I haven’t noticed her in my lessons before today.” The old woman grimaced.

“To tell the truth, I’ve been trying to keep her contained, so to speak. She’s been a sack of trouble since she came here!” she explained, leading me up the hall to her office. “Her grandmother was a close friend of mine and sent her here before she passed away of illness. We dutifully took her in, but she certainly hasn’t been grateful for other people’s charity!”

“I’m sure you’re right, but I simply can’t imagine her causing much trouble,” I said, pointedly trying to steer the conversation to her supposed crimes.

“Oh, she can be an annoyance when she wants to be! That girl loves to play pranks on people she doesn’t like, and has disobeyed us constantly. The thanks we get for taking her in off the street!” she huffed.

“I’m very sorry to hear that, Kyoko-san. But, if I might, if she’s such a burden to you, perhaps I could take her off your hands.” She was on her way to taking a sip of tea, but quickly put it down and stared at me in disbelief.

“Really?? You’ve become taken with that imp?” I could see that she briefly considered agreeing, if only to rid herself of the girl, but something stopped her. “I must confess that I haven’t been fully honest with you. Yui isn’t truly an orphan – her grandmother was also my cousin, making me her great-aunt. So you see, I’m her legal guardian.”

“And I’m afraid that I haven’t been completely honest with you, Kyoko-san,” I began carefully. It was very obvious that, relative or not, Kyoko held no great love for the girl. As such, it would only take a bit of convincing for her to relinquish her guardianship. But, to do so, I’d have to divulge some secrets of my own.

“I’m not merely a simple dance teacher, but a geisha. I moved to Tokyo during the war, while the districts were closed. But, now that they’ve been reopened, it’s time for me to return to my okiya in Gion. I was hoping to take Yui with me, not as my daughter, but as a future apprentice geisha.”

Kyoko-san looked surprised for a moment, then let out a laugh. “I should’ve thought as much, all the girls you’ve helped us unload into Akasaka. So you’re from the famous Gion, are you? But I still don’t see why you’d want a stubborn, troublesome girl like Yui.”

“Many successful geisha started out as troublesome, stubborn girls themselves,” I smiled. “It’s a rare gem that’s born as graceful and elegant as we become. But if I may, would you not consider abandoning your guardianship of her? It doesn’t need to be an official adoption, but I’d be more than happy to pay the adoption fees as if it were.”

Kyoko-san lit her pipe and sat puffing on it for a few minutes, but she eventually nodded curtly. “If you think you can make something out of her in Kyoto, than I can see no reason to hold her back. We all want to do what’s best for a young girl in need, don’t we? I’ll be happy take a trip down to the courthouse tomorrow if that’s fine with you.”

“That would be fine…if only my grandmother had seen her yet. I haven’t mentioned her?” I feigned ignorance at her confused expression. “My grandmother also has quite a stake in my career back home; I could hardly make the decision to bring someone into the okiya without her approval.”

“And when does your grandmother plan on coming by?”

“I can’t say for sure, but definitely sometime this week. Is that alright?”

“It’s all the same to me, so long as it ends up in a new opportunity for Yui-chan.” She smiled again as she tapped out her pipe. We exchanged a few more pleasantries before I bid her goodbye.

Once outside, I turned my feet to Fujiko-san’s house. Every girl that enters Gion with the intent to become an apprentice must be examined by a fortuneteller, mostly to read that her presence won’t bring bad luck or that she’ll turn out badly. A girl’s fortune and her astrological chart will factor in greatly later on when choosing things like her older sister.

I found Fujiko-san in a dark purple silk kimono, apparently having just come from a visit to the local temple. We exchanged pleasantries for a minute or two before I finally told her what I had planned. After I mentioned my plan to take on an apprentice, she gave a heavy sigh.

“Are you sure that’s wise, Hatsumomo-san?” she said slowly, making sure every word was well-heard.

“I very well couldn’t return to Gion empty-handed, could I? Besides, you yourself said that my fortunes lie with guiding the next generation. I know now more than ever that I am no school teacher; my talents and experience would be best used in the teahouses, next to a promising young apprentice.”

“Don’t think I don’t know the true reason why you’re doing this.” She gave me a hard look and continued. “We both know that the moment you step foot in a single teahouse, you’ll revert back to your old ways. It may be for the benefit of another, but senseless cruelty is still how you operate.”

“Please, give me more credit than that, Fujiko-san!” I sighed. “I’ve lost too much to jeopardize it again. But I will have my moments, as all geisha do. We both know that even the kindest woman in Gion must bare her fangs to a rival occasionally, especially when promoting an apprentice.”

Fujiko-san gave another heavy sigh. Her face softened, but not with relief or kindness. “I know what you’re trying to do, Hatsumomo-san. You do realize that, for your little scheme to work, you’d have to have an apprentice nearly every year of your remaining career?”

“That’s hardly a price to pay to be a geisha again. So long as I don’t get forced into a situation where I have to train a nightmare, I’m sure I can work wonders.” She spent a long moment staring into her teacup, before looking solemnly out of the window.

“I suppose that it’s fate that we should come to this. You know I’ve been going to another pharmacy since I arrived here, but they closed down that particular day. And the nearest that sold the medicine I needed just happened to have you in it!” She set her mug down suddenly and stood up from the table with some difficulty. “I don’t much like it, but perhaps you are more needed in the teahouses than the classroom. Heaven knows there’s a lack of stellar adult geisha right now… I’ll see the girl.”

I thanked her and asked when the examination should take place. She disappeared into her little room for a few minutes and returned saying that she could be there the day after tomorrow. That day wasn’t exactly the best day for making deals for me, but it wasn’t the worst either; it would have to do.

Two days later, we arrived at the little orphanage where Kyoko-san was waiting for us in her office. When she saw us, she called Yui into the room and told her to bow and welcome us.

“Perhaps we should leave grandmother and Yui-chan alone,” I said quietly to her. “She’s going to want to talk to her in private, and grandmother so hates crowds.” She threw me a sidelong glance that said she thought it strange, but quietly obliged.

We attempted menial conversation as the minutes slowly ticked by. Finally, almost a half hour later, Fujiko-san emerged from the room and called me over.

“I must commend you on your eye, Hatsumomo-san,” she nodded, wiping her hands on a handkerchief. “She’s most certainly a lovely and quick young girl. Train her well and she’ll be a fine apprentice. She’s year of the Rat, her ruling element is Earth, and she is certainly intact. Now I’ll leave you to explain to the poor thing what all this was about.”


End file.
